Listening to too many funny jokes will always change people's views on some truths, and the final facts are covered up in the dust of history, leaving everyone to talk about after dinner, mostly some nonsense.

During World War II, the Italian army was not as bad as it was rumored, so much so that the Italian army had to be described as spaghetti. At least when the number is outnumbered and the number is bullied, the Italian army still has a certain combat effectiveness. Even in real history, Italy's record is not comparable to that of Germany, but it is worthy of the level of a world power.

Even if they can't storm as hard as the Ukrainian army did against ethnic Russians, hiding in a safe place and running out of shells, the Italians can still do it. So on this difficult night, the Soviet defenders spent a full 8 hours in endless pain.

In the early hours of the morning, another unit appeared on the flank of Kharkov, and this force was even more bitter against the Soviets. The Romanian troops arrived and blocked the last retreat of Kharkov, and established defensive positions there, which, together with the reinforcement of the two German divisions for these Romanian troops, could be said to have been truly impregnable on the flanks of the entire Caucasian offensive cluster.

At this moment, although the German army still lacked large-caliber artillery, it was no longer as lacking as it was at the beginning of the war. The large-caliber support artillery produced by Krupp has begun to fully refer to the assembly line process of the King Tiger tank, and began to use the mechanized semi-automatic production process, and the number of artillery guns produced every day has begun to surge - these cannons are equipped with troops, although they have not completely filled the gap of the lack of artillery in the troops, but temporarily alleviated the embarrassing situation of the shortage of artillery in some troops.

Compared to the German army, the Italian and Romanian armies did not have this problem, partly because these countries did not have the large-scale military build-up in a few years, as Germany did, and partly because they did not have the sanctions of the Treaty of Versailles and had sufficient stocks.

Now these cannons are on the Soviet-German front and are in the direction of Kharkov, bombarding the stubborn Soviet defenders in the corner of the city. The sound of buildings collapsing echoed throughout the city, and the end of the world recorded in the Bible was nothing more than that, and every Soviet soldier with his own weapon watched his home being destroyed into piles of ruins.

A Soviet sniper lies silently in the rubble of a building that has long since been blown into ruins by shells, and in his scope, several Romanian soldiers who have just arrived inspect the destroyed building. These Romanian soldiers lacked combat experience, in other words, they had not been taught the habit of bending over and walking briskly by the brutality of war.

If no one falls beside him, if no comrade has his head broken, if no human blood has been splashed on his face, he will never know how important and irreplaceable it is to bend down on the battlefield and move as fast as possible against the wall.

With a gunshot and a bullet piercing the head of a Romanian soldier, the remaining Romanian soldiers immediately learned the skills they should have memorized, and quickly fled into the empty trench with the help of their steel helmets. Their movements are a bit of a fart and urine flow, which is a little inconsistent with the image of a few of them pointing out the country just now, but at this juncture, no one will care about their own image, after all, the most chic one just now is lying on the ground spurting blood.

The Soviet soldier pulled the bolt of his gun, expertly loaded the rifle bullet, and then aimed the scope at the slowest enemy soldier, found the advance amount, and fired a second shot cleanly.

The bullet flew directly into the Romanian soldier's back, causing a penetrating wound to his chest. The Romanian soldier screamed and threw himself into the trench, smashing his head down on the bottom of the trench. The two friendly soldiers who jumped in first quickly leaned over and turned over their face-down comrades, only to find that he was no longer breathing.

The Soviet soldier in the ruins had already begun to withdraw from the small dirt bag, carrying his rifles, ignoring the dust on his body, and running to the path behind him, he crossed a street, climbed a broken wall in the corner, came to the second floor of a ruin, and stuck out the muzzle of his gun in a window.

Once again, he turned from movement to stillness, trying to hide his whereabouts, wandering the edge of the Soviet defenses. The muzzle of the black hole was pointed at the street in the distance, waiting for the enemy to arrive. In a city in ruins, he is a hunter, a terrifying hunter who hunts for the lives of his opponents.

Directly in front of the Soviet snipers, about 100 Romanian soldiers were slowly approaching at both ends of the street, these soldiers with guns in hand, carefully walking forward, they looked east and west from time to time, trying to detect the enemy situation around them in advance. Apparently the efforts of these people did not achieve what they wanted, because in this very corner, a sniper had already aimed at a young Romanian soldier who was in the head.

During the Second World War, street fighting was a nightmare for any country. The invasion of a city is usually left to the infantry, filling a bottomless pit with their lives, until the last drop of blood is shed by the defender or attacker, and the slaughter is truly over. Street fighting itself has been studied as a subject since the Second World War, and at this time, the ruins and rubble were full of terrible death traps.

"Bah!" a gunshot rang out, and it didn't seem so harsh in this city, which was exploding everywhere and burning everywhere, or in the ruins. However, one of the Romanian soldiers at the front of the line fell in response, which made the others immediately understand what had happened.

The chaotic firing began immediately, the Romanian soldiers who lacked combat experience frequently fired at the buildings on both sides, and the machine guns covering these soldiers also let out a roar, but on the one hand, the intensive fire was strong, and on the other hand, it was a slow retreat, and these Romanian troops slowly retreated, until the end of the street, and only then did they stabilize their position.

This time, there was no need to even change positions, the Soviet sniper sneered, touched the ammunition pouch on his body with his hand, and found that there were not many bullets left inside. He smiled wryly, then pulled out a magazine and pressed it into his rifle.

His assistant had been killed by a stray bullet a few days earlier. So these days he has been fighting alone, these enemy soldiers who appeared in Kharkov are not German soldiers with rich combat experience and superior combat effectiveness, those grenadiers mixed with a large number of snipers are the real difficult characters. So he felt that he was now at ease, almost like an arbiter in this city, deciding anyone's life and death.

A few Romanian soldiers fumbled and began to test forward again, and this time most of them did not follow, but only a few unlucky ones, trembling and walking forward. They were armed with guns and watched the scene around them more often. Soviet snipers were very curious about why these people dared to come up and send them to death in such a daze, knowing that they were dead.

He narrowed his eyes, pressed the crosshair in the scope against an enemy soldier, and then decisively pulled the trigger, and the bullet hit the target with a "bang!", and the Romanian soldier fell without even having time to struggle.

This time the Soviet snipers were not very lucky, these Romanian soldiers obviously had some experience than the random shooting just now, and they calmly searched and found the window where the Soviet soldiers fired. They raised their rifles and fired at the Soviet sniper's position.

"Bastard!" the Soviet sniper quickly drew his rifle and retreated from the window of the ruin to the edge of the collapsed floor on the other side, jumping off the ruin, ignoring the dust and panting in the opposite direction of the enemy.

Running past the ruins and across the streets, he suddenly found a place that he was not familiar with, after all, the city was not his hometown, and he could not distinguish any of the neighborhoods that had been destroyed. A hint of danger came from all around, surrounding the Soviet sniper, leaving him a little breathless.

So he quickly leaned towards the edge of the street and ran quickly down the street in what he thought was safe. He took his rifle and let the wind whistle in his ears, and ran desperately to the end of the street, which was already familiar to him, and he could reach the safe area by crossing the last crossing.

When he rushed out of the street corner, he involuntarily stopped, because on the other side of the street corner, there were more than thirty Ukrainian soldiers. They had attacked here on the other side, and were cautiously groping their way forward. At this time, more than 30 rifles were facing the Soviet sniper, and the situation seemed indescribably strange.

The Soviet sniper laughed, as if he thought it was a very funny thing, but unfortunately he was punched with at least 20 holes in his body before he could finish laughing. He didn't feel the pain in his body, he smiled and fell on his back, and closed his eyes in exhaustion.

Farther down the street, across the houses, rows of Ukrainian soldiers carrying their rifles entered the city, densely packed with guns like a forest.